alk of crumps as you would talk of
bread and butter. That is, perhaps, why letters from home that talk
about homely things--cows and lavender and the new chintz--are so
welcome.

Besides, good heavens! don't you know that there's not a man in France
but knows that the best-beloved ones at home are having a far worse time
than we are having here? Wet clothes? Mud? Shells a-bursting, guns
a-popping? Even a wound, perhaps? Pish! No one _thinks_ at all out
here. There isn't time. Most of the people out here are perfectly happy
and merry, really. The sort of "long-drawn-out-agony" touch is, I think,
rare.

I'm writing this in a jolly Boche dug-out, all panelled and cosy.
Jezebel and Swallow and a new pack mare I've got are in a valley that's
hardly ever touched, and in fine, all's well.

_September 24._

[Sidenote: TEAR SHELLS]

Tear shells or "lachrymatory shells." They haven't been putting many
over lately, apparently. But they put some over the other day, and they
are so amusing that I must describe them to you.

The Colonel and I were up trying to find a "working-party" from the
regiment. The regiment is sadly split up at present into various parties
doing various jobs in various places, all unpleasant. Better than
infantry work, but still unpleasant.

We rode up much closer than we have ridden before, and left the
Colonel's orderly and Hale in a bit of a valley with Minotaur, Jezebel,
Hob, and Tank. Tank is a new mare I've got. Hale was riding her, as I
never take Swallow closer than I can help.

We dismounted in this small valley, and the Colonel's orderly and Hale
were given orders to move if any shells were put over too near them.

Then the Colonel and I went up through a wood that is just a few
splintered stumps now.

We passed behind several batteries, and I thought to myself: "Dash it
all! I know my eyes can't be watering because of the noise. What the
deuce is the matter? I hope the Colonel won't notice."

However, on we waded and plodded. Suddenly the Colonel stopped, and
exclaimed: "Oh damnation! This is perfect nonsense." His eyes were like
tomatoes, and the tears were rolling down his cheeks!

By this time we could hardly see at all, and it dawned on us that we
must hastily put on our tear goggles, which we had never used before,
but always, of course, carry. They go in the satchel along with the two
gas helmets.

Presently we met some infantry coming back, all safely begoggled. The
Huns,